Wreckage
by Kate E. Hilliard
Summary: All anyone really wants in life is peace. Cora Thomas just wants to relax as often as possible, to let her body go and enter a perfect world she can call her own. Sadly, she would go to any length necessary to achieve that. That fact could ruin her.
1. Chapter 1

It started with a dream.

-  
Cora's favorite place in the world was the teahouse called _The Grey Vine_. It was nestled inside of a conservatory, which itself was a special project that has been built specifically for the building that it hid. The green tinted glass made the interior of the conservatory look gloomy, and the sprinkler system was designed to simulate a light rain. No continuous stream, just a sequence of heavy steady drops. A structure composed with the intent of offering a dreary day in the middle of a cloudless summer day…

And Cora _hated_ those days.

The _Vine_ on its own was perfect. The teal painted walls had been aged and cracked to give the place a vintage vibe. Honestly the place looked like an opium den; it's fire place, silken mats and pillows, leather wing back chairs, and the vermillion velvet chaise that Cora was always stretched over drinking some new herbal blend worked together to ensure that people felt calmed and relaxed. Spanish guitars would play when it wasn't crowded, and Gypsy Violins would serenade when it was a half full, that's another thing about the _Vine _Cora loved, it was usually a ghost town. She sipped the black rose blend she'd ordered and exhaled deeply. The brew felt like a massage that was going from the inside out. Her muscles relaxed for the first time all day and she let herself ease further into the soft chaise. Her eyes drifted closed. She felt her whole body sink past the fabric, the padding, and into space.

She opened her eyes and smiled.

She was surrounded by stars, little white lights glitzing all around her. Cora reached out and plucked a star, cupping in her hands. Looking into it, she felt it's tingling warmth wash over her face. She giggled and brought it closer to her face. As her whole body went loose her limbs spread out. This was not the first time she'd gone swimming in space, and it certainly wouldn't be her last. These dreams were the best, the weightlessness, the lift of responsibility from her shoulders, the complete sense of peace that came with outer space, those qualities were what made this moment perfect. However, the perfection is fleeting. As Cora remembers what this is, her dream begins to falter, those bright little stars begin to shatter, and she goes falling towards the earth with the pieces. It is the she wakes up, more than a little startled. The odd book-reading hipster would look up at her from over his copy of _For Whom The Bell Tolls,_ raise an eyebrow then look away. She would swallow hard, clearly flustered. Then Cora would collect her things, pay her tab, and return home. The misplaced adrenaline would lead her to write the most complex things as quickly as possible, her inspiration more fleeting than her perfect world. As Cora picked up her violin, preparing to test out the new piece, her eyes settled on a cream colored Chrysler across from her window. She made an attempt to focus on it, but a drop of rain distracted her. Soon it began to pour. Cora smiled and went back to her violin.

Eames was hungry. Tracking some ginger girl through the city was not only boring, but also time consuming. He had forgotten to eat. Eames yawned and looked through his binoculars again. She was writing something furiously on a silver stand. The mark set the pen down and picked up a violin, for a split second he thought she'd looked right at him, but this thought was quickly cut short as rain skewed his vision. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Arthur coming towards the passenger side door with a brown bag of food he'd procured from a greasy spoon. Eames chuckled to himself and locked the doors. Arthur knocked on the window and when it didn't open he began to raise his voice to point out the food would get wet. As Arthur climbed in he handed Eames the bag.

"I think she saw me a second ago." He said as he unwrapped a heavily topped cheeseburger from it's foil.

Arthur popped a fry in his mouth, "Nah, I don't think so."


	2. Chapter 2

The client's name was Martin Thomas, and he was very bitter. Apparently he had been born much to his parent's disappointment. They'd gone so far to paint the nursery pink before the sex could even be determined. That confidence set them up for failure. Martin lived as a failure, because no matter what he did he never was the girl his parents wanted him to be. Cora was adopted when he was seven years old. They gave her custom songs every birthday with ludicrous titles like "Miss Mousey's Final Assault" or "Super-Cora saves the day". He would get "Happy Birthday To You". They gave her the goddamn _world. _They gave him nothing. His parents' indifference toward him had eaten him alive since he was born.

Arthur and Eames had listened to Martin spin his sob story, the olive skinned blond man visibly growing more hate-filled as he told his tragic tale of woe.

They real kicker for him was that Cora, the Austrian orphan girl originally named Farahilde, was a _fucking musical prodigy_. While he was painstakingly learning piano at a boarding school, she was home taking violin lessons from her father because she'd already learned piano…and cello, and jazz trumpet, and the bassoon.

Martin stopped telling the story and erupted.

"I mean for fuck's sake, who plays a BASSOON anymore!"

Arthur heard Eames mutter "Your sister apparently." under his breath. Arthur had to bite his lip to stifle a laugh.

The client would rant even further, going on to say how he became a rising star on the classical scene, always being featured as part of an amazing duo, he being the performance half, the other the composer. When Cora made her debut at the lavish party her parents had thrown her on her 15th birthday, she'd played an original piece. She outshone him in one night, by doing what he could not…write the loveliest music in the world. Her sound echoed of Brahms and Seress. He was soon called flat and tone-deaf by critics.

The two men across from Martin were getting bored and agitated. Neither of them really cared about what the motivation for him to hire them was, they only cared about what needed to be taken and how soon.

"So…Mr. Thomas…what exactly are you looking to extract?" Arthur inquired, attempting to find the chase and cut to it as fast as possible.

Martin sighed.

"The piece that Cora debuted at her 15th Birthday was the prologue to a three part epic concerto she's spent the past nine years writing. It was like she read the Hobbit aloud to that party, and she's about to publish all three Lord of the Rings novels at once…"

Eames and Arthur exchanged glances, wishing that the jackass before them wasn't drawing it out.

Martin leaned forward. "I want you to extract the concerto for me."

Eames sighed. "You know…family counseling would be a hell of a lot cheaper." He stated bemusedly.

Martin scowled at him.

"I'm serious. That girl stole my childhood, my family, my _fucking life_. I want to take the one thing that makes her whole, to do that I'm going to need your help." He said shakily.

Arthur quirked an eyebrow at him.

"The going rate is 40,000." He told him, hoping to discourage him by throwing out an unreasonably high number.

Unfortunately Martin Smiled broadly at him and threw a clip full of money on the table, in front of them.

"I'll pay double if you succeed. "

Cora woke up to the sound of rain on the tin awning outside her window. She scowled. Today, she had work…

Cora looked at the clock.

…In two hours.

She huffed, realizing that if she went back to sleep she would be late, and got up to dress.

Thirty minutes later, she was pacing madly around her living room, a Les Paul Sun Burst draped around her shoulders.

"G-G-G-D-D-A-A-G-G-G-D-D-B-G-errrrrrrg!" She let out an angered growl noise after she realized that her final G chord had been hit E instead. Cora removed the guitar from her person and slumped over in an overstuffed navy armchair. As she propped up her head in her hands, her mutt stalked over to her and began to gnaw on one of shoe laces attached to her boot. Roger was a sheltie corgi mix, a friendly little rescue that was a guard dog to Cora. The term "guard dog" was used loosely. She scratched Roger's ear and then stood up, stretching her back and arms at the same time. She slipped into her coat and picked up her briefcase.

"I'll see you tonight Rodger, Momma's gotta go bring in the bacon." She told the puppy as if he were a child. The dog perked it's ears at her and tweeked his head to the side. Cora smiled and walked out of the apartment closing the door behind her.

_**AN:**_ Sorry about the wait folks, schools draining me.


	3. Chapter 3

The first thing that Arthur and Eames noticed when they broke into the apartment was the puppy. It was an adorable little thing, the kind of dog you buy, then take it for a walk just to pick up women. The puppy walked over and gave Arthur's show a tentative lick and looked up at him. The puppy huffed and walked back to his pillow by the couch. The moment hung in the air.

"Well then…" Eames began, "...Let's get this started shall we?"

At first their search rendered nothing, no pictures of friends, no to-do lists, not a single thing. Then, Eames found the book. Tucked inside Cora's nightstand drawer was a good sized book, leather bound, and thick like one of those Harry Potter books, he'd seen kids reading some odd years ago. He slid his hands into a pair gloves and picked it up. When he opened it, he began to beam.

"What'd you find?" Arthur asked from the next room, leaning in the door way to see what Eames was doing.

"_Everything."_ Eames said proudly.

The book was part Journal, part scrap book, part song book. It outlined her life so far perfectly, that this job was, in all honesty, going to be the easiest money they'd made in quite some time. As Eames flipped through the pages and the discovered new things, like the best friend who'd planned to elope with her then flaked and went back to his ex girlfriend (who'd cheated on him with Cora's ex and was ergo a whore), and the reason she'd bought a puppy named Evey, was because Martin's new girlfriend was allergic (and that that girlfriend was a mad bitch to Cora, and she _knew _that he could do better), but what really caught the men's attention amidst the "girl-babble" as Eames called it, was the music. About seven pages after the tale of Evey the Triumphant attacking a plastic fern, there was an odd mess of music notes. Arthur pointed at the first line of notes and hummed them aloud.

"What do you want to bet that this is the beginning of the first act?" Eames asked as he flipped through more pages. They soon became aware that the rest of the entries were just music. Her life had stopped when she began to write her masterpiece.

"Idea. Why don't we just take this to Martin and avoid the actual extraction all together?" Eames asked, closing the book and pointing it at Arthur.

Arthur took the book and flipped to where the music ended, he started to hum again.

"Ah" He said quickly, the flipped the book around to show Eames the pages he was reading from.

"It ends too abruptly; she hasn't finished it, yet."

Eames made a face. Cleary, he just wasn't in the mood to crash the girls' dream. Eames closed the book and a picture came flying out from between the pages. In the picture were a young woman who had a shaggy ginger haircut, pale skin, lipstick that made her teeth look yellow; and a tall, somewhat goth young man, who was undoubtedly mixed race, his dry, straightened hair sticking out from the back of a black bandana. The background of the photo held the _Stardust Hotel_'s famous sign. Eames picked up the picture and flipped it over.

_Cora and Trevor, 4 Hours before the wedding._

"That must be the best friend." Arthur said, taking the picture from Eames.

"Gasp. Really? I would've never though." Eames retorted.

Arthur gave a soft but frustrated sigh.

"Alright, we have what we need, let's go." He said icily.

"Well fine then." Eames said, purposefully throwing an obnoxious look at him.

Arthur took the book from Eames, and opened it again, searching for the page the picture had come from. He found it, the empty corner tabs used to hold it in place worn out and peeling. On the opposite page was practically carved into the page in Pen, and a bit smudged with wet marks, were two simple words:

_NEVER_

_AGAIN_

Arthur swallowed and tucked the picture back into the book. He closed it and placed it inside the nightstand where Eames had found it.

"What-you're just doing to leave that here? That thing's a goldmine of information!" Eames nearly shouted after him.

"Something that important to her? No, she'd notice it was gone." Arthur said almost too quietly.

The air was getting colder in the apartment, and Cora's dark decorum was making things worse. The whole place felt…haunted.

"Seriously Eames, let's get out of here…it's creepy."

Eames snorted. "What you don't like neo-Victorian décor?"

Arthur felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up, and he started to head for the door.

"No, I don't."


	4. Chapter 4

The moment Cora set foot in her apartment that evening, she knew something was wrong. The air smelled of musk and cheap cologne. Roger greeted her warmly as always, but she didn't pay much attention to him. Someone had been in her house. She set the briefcase on the coffee table, and quickly picked up the faux-Hanzo Hattori sword she'd been given what felt like a lifetime ago. Mimicry taught her how to wield it, with the push and pull grip. Cora began to clear her apartment, kicking half-opened doors into a full doorway. When she finally realized that the smell was the cologne of a ghost, a presence that was no longer here, she sighed and plopped down on her sofa. She cracked her neck and let her eyes settle on an engraving that had been put into the sword.

_For my wife, the only girl I'll ever love_

_~Trevor_

Cora's blood began to boil as flashed of them running around Las Vegas flooded her mind. Together they were gambling, drinking, and picking out his suit. Cora saw herself alone buying the dress, and the straight razors she'd knew he'd adore. He was buying her the sword. She could feel her brains sizzle and her flesh cook as she made it to the chapel with him, both of them all smiles and laughter. She waited for him to walk down the isle…He never did. She went to go get him, he was gone. The sword was in a chair, topped with a note.

_We were fools. I was a fool._  
_I'm sorry I let this happen._

She would call him, his ex would pick up, call her a stupid bitch and proceeded to tell her how she flew to Las Vegas "to win back the love of her life from the clutches of some dumb slut". Cora hung up.

She was on fire. This was the kind of thing she hated to think about but always did, she just wanted him gone, but knew he never would be. He was a brand on her mind. She vaulted her body over the back of the couch and scrambled to the door. She slammed it behind her as she broke out into a full run to try to get to_ The Vine. _Sleep took her away from him, and she needed to get as far away as possible.

"I _want_ another one Andy." Cora said, her speech slurred with a tired ache.

"You've had _five_ of my sleeper blends, Cora. Now look you're a sweet girl, a loyal customer, but I can't keep giving you these, they'll make you sick if you keep drinking." Andy said slowly, but forcefully.

Cora glared up at him, the sort of glare you see on children not getting their way or drunks about to be kicked out of the bar.

"Andy…I need to chase him off again." She breathed out.

"Cora it's been four years…he's gone."

"No…" Cora said firmly, looking him in the eye. "He'll never be gone."

Andy sighed and poured her another cup of Sleeper blend, the strongest one he had. As he handed it over the bar he told her quietly:

"Bathroom is on the right, you're going to be sick."

Cora paid him and walked back over to her couch. She was there for a grand total of six minutes before the nausea set in. She felt the area between her shoulders suddenly become heated as she realized she had been wrong, Cora bolted into the bathroom and began to wretch. Andy followed her to make sure she would be alright, some of the herbs in that tea weren't exactly and he couldn't have her going to the hospital.

When she finally came back up and wiped her mouth on a Kleenex from the box on the sink.

"I can't keep him away if I don't sleep…" She muttered quietly, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. Andy wasn't sure if she was crying or if her eyes had just watered from the sudden rejection of acids from her stomach.

Andy sighed.

"I know a guy…he specializes in sedatives, natural things mostly, but more hardcore than any of the teas I have here. His name is Yusuf…" Andy pulled out some paper with a number written on it.

"…He'll make your boogieman go away."

Cora took the paper and looked at it.

"Thank you, Andy. This is helpful."

Andy nodded at her and helped her up. Cora left _The Grey Vine_ shortly after.

Andy picked up the phone and dialed out a number.

"Hello, who is this and why are you calling?" Eames' voice dripped through the receiver.

"It's Andy…She's coming your way."

Eames stayed silent for a moment.

"Well now…isn't that fantastic?"

_**AN:**_ I 3 Reviews…They give me the confidence to move forward.


	5. Chapter 5

Cora didn't bother with a cell phone. She could feel some change in her pocket burning hotter than coal. In her mad dash to the payphone she knocked over one of the glazed ceramic pots that held an exotic fern. She heard it clatter to the ground and break as she wretched open the door. Once she had sealed herself inside the booth and let the coins drop into their slot.

She dialed the number she'd been given.

_Ring. -_

"Hello?" A male answered, his voiced heavily veiled with accents of somewhere warm and spicy.

"Is th-…Is this Mr. Yusef?" She asked shakily

"Yes…This is." The man answered back.

"I hear you're one to talk to about…questionable medications for inducing slumber."

Cora had always been a firm believer that using bigger words would make her sound smarter and more impressive …more likeable. Seeing as how at this moment, Mr. Yusef was the god Hypnos, Cora needed him to like her.

"Yes, yes I am. I don't normally do business over the phone. Stop by my office, it's on the wharf, dock seventeen, five o'clock." He said abruptly.

"Um, sir, wai-" Cora stopped mid-statement as she heard a steady digital echo. He'd hung up.

Five took forever to come around. She walked to the wharf at three and waited for two hours, her impatience throbbing in her ears.

When it finally hit, she bolted into the only building that was there. That was where she found the lab. A menagerie of bottles in every shade lined the walls and a large chemistry set was on a stainless steel table in the middle of the room. Cora felt her jaw loosen and go slack.

"You might want to pick your jaw up from the floor…" an English drawl echoed from behind her.

Cora spun to face him. He was wearing a pair of brown slacks and a cream colored shirt that had been accented by black suspenders. She quickly read his body language, sly smile, quirked brow, hands in his pockets. This man was hostel. Cora crossed her arms protectively over her chest.

"…it hasn't been cleaned in weeks." He finished.

She cracked her neck. "I'm looking for Mister Yusef." She said quietly, keepithe her gaze on

The man grinned. "Oh come now dear there's no need to be shy…" he sauntered over to where she was and put a hand on her shoulder.

"…Everything is going to be fine." He stated warmly. Cora's line of sight fell on a doorway, where a shorter man, who's skin was Indian in appearance, came swooping in at them.

"Eames, hands off the customers." He said coldly. The Englishman, Eames, removed his hand from her shoulder quickly.

"You must be the lady from the phone call, I am Doctor Yusef." He claimed, bowing a bit too dramatically.

"I didn't know you were a Doctor." The Englishman half-mumbled.

Doctor Yusef glared at him, then turned back to Cora smiling.

"Well I know you're probably in a hurry to see what we have for you, so if you follow me, we shall get to it." Another warm statement, but a different voice.

All these feel-good vibes were making Cora a little uncomfortable, but she followed the doctor anyway.

"All our medications are legal, we use no opiates and we have an almost ninety-three percent success rate." The Doctor went on to say as they strode down the corridor. The walls looked like they had been white as some point, but had aged and yellowed to a tea color. They were bare of any adornment they'd once held.

"And here we are." Yusef said as he threw open a set of double doors. The room looked…strange, almost like a hospital room, but not quite. It had more of a bedroom setting though, with a heavily padded mattress and a velvet throw.

"Woah…" Cora breathed out. "This is pretty snazzy."

Yusef beamed at her. "It is isn't it?"

A beat of silence passed.

"…Let's get started shall we?"


	6. Chapter 6

The bed was comfortable. It was fashioned out of memory foam and feathers and draped with ivory satin. Frankly, it felt like she was sleeping on a giant vanilla cake she could taste through her flesh.

"Miss, I'll need you to drink this." Doctor Yusef said, holding up a wide-mouthed beaker of a clear liquid. Cora leaned up and shot back all of it. She let herself fall back onto the pillow.

"Now count backwards from twenty." The doctor commanded.

"…Twenty…nineteen…eighteen…seventeen…"Cora was out.

As soon as they saw she was asleep, the team began to rush around trying to connect to her. Adrienne was walking like a zombie. She'd stayed up for the past forty hours researching locations that Arthur and Eames had mentioned from Cora's book. She was probably looking forward to this more than anyone. Eames set about rehearsing a bit, making sure he was ready to cause minimal psychological harm. The barista at _The Grey Vine_ had explained to them how Cora came to him one night a few years ago, drunken and disorderly, looking to forget about someone. He gave her some tea and she slept on his couch. When she awoke she looked almost normal, not nearly as depressed as the night before. She calmly informed him that she hadn't thought of him once while she was asleep. Eames was about to change that. In order to get what Martin wanted, he had to become that someone…

He was going to become Trevor.  
Arthur felt sick. He was a bundle of nerves about this job. None of this felt right. What they were going to do might ruin her. If what Martin had said was true, then there was a lot of hype backing this piece. Cora's failure to deliver would mean the end of her career, ergo the end of her life. He wasn't sure that he wanted that on his conscience.

As Yusef brought in a few lawn chairs and pricked the IVs into everyone's arms, it became all too obvious that this wasn't going to go as planned.

They found themselves in an old city, surrounded by posh people in vintage designer clothes. After a brief second they realized there was nothing vintage about this place at all.

"Adrienne, what the hell are we doing here?" Eames half-yelled.

"I-I don't know, I set us up for Las Vegas so you could get to it, I…I don't even know where we are…" She said in a panicked tone.

Arthur darted towards a magazine stand and grabbed a newspaper.

"We're in New York…in 1928." He said harshly, folding the paper back up.

"That isn't possible…" Adrienne cried out.

"Oh yes it is…" Eames growled.

"This happens more than people in our profession would prefer it to. It's not very common, but I assure you Adrienne it is quite possible." Eames pasued to bring a cigarette out of his pocket, slide it between his lips, and light it. He inhaled and exhaled his line of smoke before continuing. "…She was dreaming before we tapped into her subconscious...She became her own architect without even realizing."

Adrienne looked from Eames to Arthur and back.  
"What exactly does that mean?"

Arthur tucked his hands into his pockets and leaned against the side of a tall brick building.

"It means finding her is going to be a bit harder."

Eames sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"We need to formulate a new game plan and fast." He exhaled, the frustration heavy in his voice.

"First, we have to find Cora, once we have an idea of what this is or what _she_ is in here, we can properly configure a new strategy." Arthur stated in an emotion-less tone.

This had happened before, several years ago, when Arthur and Cobb had been hired to extract names of mob bosses from an unwilling informant. The plan had been to keep him to where he thought he was awake, as always. Needless to say that didn't happen. They'd wound up on a boat in the Mediterranean sea, going on a bizarre chase to hunt down the mark. By the time they'd gotten what they came for, they'd driven the mark insane. The government got their information and the two of them got paid. Cobb went home to his family. The informant went to an asylum. The informant's wife hung herself a few weeks later, blaming herself for her husband's sudden madness and leaving her children in the care of her elderly parents. Arthur made it a point to see how the kids were doing every once in a while through a web search. The older was awaiting trial for drug charges and the younger was in the care of the state because the grandparents had died. Arthur never let himself live down that he'd had a hand in ruining that family.

They scoured the city, block after block.

"I feel like we're going in circles." Adrienne commented after the fourth hour. Her body ached from walking in disproportioned heels, and itched from the tweed suit she was wearing.

"Now is not the time for complaining." Eames said over his shoulder to her.

"Hey guys…I think…I think I found her." Arthur said, feeling himself run out of steam.

Across the street about a seventy-five yards away from them, was a glistening gold marquee illuminated with the words:

_ONE NIGH T ONLY  
THE PHENOMENAL CORA THOMAS  
PREFORMING_

"_HEY DADDY"_

The trio paused a moment then made their way to the theater. The lag was starting to eat at their minds.

"Three." Eames said to the counter clerk.

"That'll be 5 dollars." The clerk girl said grinning.

Eames paid her and they walked inside. It was a work of art, Cora's theater. It was all red velvet and gold statuaries. There were cherubs and sirens, and angels and gods worked into the columns and edging the ceilings. The ceilings themselves were etched glass. The floors looked like black marble. As they made their way through the crowd, Adrienne felt more and more out of place. They were very underdressed for this event, whatever it was, and the projections were starting to stare. She latched onto the crook of Eames' elbow for support. Arthur felt a twinge of disappointment run through him as he noticed that. He swallowed and continued on. Once they were seated, in seats far too comfortable for anything that would've been available in the twenties. Eames had thought to snag a program.

"Apparently this is a song and dance show." He drawled suavely. Adrienne was about to pass out in her seat. Arthur sat in his chair, growing tenser by the minute. There were _a lot_ of projections here. If something went wrong, they'd be torn apart. After a few minutes of Idle chit chat the theater went dark and a two spot lights began to circle around the plush red curtain that hid the stage from view

"_Ladies and gentlemen! Hopefully no boys and girls! Tonight we here at The Cherry Vine are very proud to present…the one…the only. MISS CORA THOMAS!"_

The curtain split down the middle revealing a dark haired woman in a grey mink coat with her back turned to the Audience.

"_Heeeeeeeeeeeey Daddy." _ She turned sideways and let the coat slide off her shoulders.

" _I want a diamond ring, bracelets, everything. Daddy…"  
_The coat hit the floor with every jaw in the house that was attracted to women. It was Cora…but _a completely different _Cora. She was more buxom than the nearly frail ginger they'd known from reality, This Cora had a pair of hips that gave her a figure that would make a priest take the lord's name in vain. She was squeezed into a beaded and sequined dark green corset frock…yeah..this Cora was just tops. Dream-Cora stretched out one long slender leg in front of her and began to strut about, shimmying and waving her arms like a Bollywood dancer. Then she took a seat on the edge of the stage, propping up her gams to the side.

"_You oughta get the best for meeee!"_  
She smiled as she sang and pointed at a man in the audience, then pointed her thumb back at her chest. In a manner far more graceful than Reality-Cora could manage, Dream-Cora stood then began to shimmy to the center of the stage with her back to the audience. She turned and pressed her index finger to her jaw and looked up as if thinking deeply on a matter.  
_"Hey, Daddy, gee, wouldn't I look swell in sables?"_

She opened her arms out more, like she was welcoming a friend she hadn't seen in years, she shook her shoulders as she strode towards the audience, her glittery black heels reflecting the stage lights too perfectly."  
_"Clothes with Paris labels? Daddy?  
You oughta get the best for me!"  
_She worked her legs over to the side of the stage where a black box-like platform could barely be seen., she sat back on it and kicked a leg into the air, keeping her other one bent. Then turning to face the crowd.  
_"Here's N'amazing* revelation  
_She stood, and sashayed towards center stage again, putting her back to the crowd again  
"_With a bit of stimulation…"  
_Dream-Cora put her side to the crowd again, keeping her hand on her constantly swaying hips._  
"I'd be a great sensation."  
_She ran her free hand through her hair._  
"I'd be your inspiration…"  
_She started to bend over to where her fingers touched the floor then she sang quickly:  
"_I'd even be your little consolation! "  
_She popped back up quickly and one of her legs kicked up a little.

"_Daddy! You've! Gotta! Ger! The very best for meeeeeeeeee!_  
She belted out, legs spreading wider until she fell into a split. She bent back a little to where her hair grazed the back of her knee.

"_Oh Daddy…"_

The crowd stood and applauded loudly, wolf whistles and cat calls coming from all directions.

"That was one of the vainest displays I've seen in my life." Adrienne whispered to Eames.

"Obviously _you_ need to appreciate the female form a little more."

Arthur was still in his seat. He could've sworn Dream-Cora looked at him when she finished. Part of him believed she did, the other part of him knew he only wanted her to, that's he'd imagined it. Arthur looked at Eames stonily and said:

"We need to get backstage, now."


	7. Chapter 7

The backstage was hectic. It was a bustling Mecca of glimmering fabric and props. Eames cursed as a young woman stepped on his toe, apologized, then glared as projections usually do. Adrienne gulped, she was getting wary of this assignment. Arthur was practically marching with clenched fists. In laitance terms, he was pissed. The whole situation was only going to get worse and there was no real way of controlling it. Halfway between muttering obscenities and scowling, Arthur heard Eames swear and Adrienne gasp. He looked up to follow their gaze and had to restrain himself from following suit in their actions. There was the woman they knew as Dream-Cora, walking into a dressing room with a big glittery gold star on it. It was who was guarding the door that disturbed them. To the left of the door was again, _Cora_, but this one too was different, her hair was woven into brains and dreadlocks and her clothes resembled that of a costume from a wood-stock themed harem. To the right of the door was a similar situation, only instead of a bohemian hippie, there was a rough woman with a black eye, a bruised jaw, and split lips dressed in black leather and bandages. She too, was Cora.

"What in god's name-" Adrienne started. Arthur cut her off with an angry sigh.

"Bi-polar disorder…" He went on to say. "Our mark has bi-polar disorder, resulting in projections of her personalities."

"Is this as rare as the rouge architecture?" Adrienne's voice grew panicked again.

"No, in fact, it's quite common." Eames chimed in. "Mostly in teenagers and junkies, sometimes a loon…and by the looks of it…our mark is either a junkie or a loon…or both."

The hippie-Cora started to roll her hips and stomach, raising her arms above her head. Rough-Cora lit up a cigarette and glared at Eames. Then everyone else started to stare at Eames, and hippie-Cora stopped dancing. The entire backstage stood quiet and still, like trees on a windless night. They stared at the invaders, their eyes boring holes, but no one moving. Not a single twitch.

Suddenly the door to Dream-Cora's dressing room flew open and a sick looking woman raced out to meet them. Her eyes beheld dark circles, her chest bone-y, with veins showing through the chalky white skin. _This_ was Cora, the real Cora. The same girl Arthur and Eames had witnessed trying to drink herself into a pleasant little coma because she was miserably unhappy with the world. She looked _terrified._

Dream-Cora (the busty swing singer from the stage) crept into the doorway, leaning on it like only a fictitious vixen could.

"You can't run from us forever Cora…sooner or later we _will_ get at you…and you'll be sorry."

That was when Cora, the real one, woke up. She didn't find herself on any fancy bed in a hospital room, or in her own bed. She was in white space… a vacuum of emptiness. She swallowed hard, her mouth dry and her throat scratchy. She knew what she'd done. She'd made an emergency exit from floor one to floor two. Cora began to look around desperately, searching for her signal, her "safe sight" as she called it. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She looked up, at what would've been the sky, and saw a shade of grey. Cora smiled. Now she could build.

Eames, Arthur and Adrienne ran after Cora, only to find her a short time later. She was passed out in the chaise lounge from the show, a spilled bottle of Ambien next to her.

"Really?..._Really?_ Is this actually happening? Or are we being led on a wild goose chase through one of you two's minds as part of a joke?" Eames prattled upon seeing Cora's limp figure.

"If it's a joke, it isn't funny." Adrienne almost whispered.

Arthur clasped a hand over his eyes and slid it down his face, stretching his neck.

"Whether she knows it or not, our mark…is obviously having a few serious problems." Arthur thought aloud trying to figure out how to reason the situation.

"Obviously." Eames echoed.

"So what now? Do we follow her, Do we give up, I mean what's standard procedure for this sort of thing?" Adrienne asked, her tone becoming lightly laced with rage.

"It depends, do we want to get paid?" Eames said hatefully.

A quiet passed over them. Arthur gave serious thought to saying no..but he had rent to pay, and he knew Adrienne did too.

Arthur and Adrienne exchanged a glance.

"Well alright then." Eames spouted, picking up the Ambien and knocking three pills back. He held the bottle out to the two of them.

"Who's up for Round Two?"

(**AN: **I like reviews, they let me know I'm doing well. I feel like I'm starting to slip.)


	8. Chapter 8

They drug her body to a secluded area of the stage and propped her up against an exposed brick wall.

As Arthur slid the needle into the crook of her elbow, Cora twitched. It was dually official, Arthur_** hated**_this job. This was beyond some light theft, this was completely dismantling this woman's life brick by subconscious brick. His hand lingered on her arm for a moment. Pity and regret swarmed him.

"Hell-oo?" Eames said, knocking on Arthur's shoulder. "Are we good to go here, or are you going to keep caressing that anemic looking arm?"

Arthur felt a warm and reckless sensation in the back of his crown. Eames was wearing on his psyche more than Cora's.

"No…" Arthur said politely. "…No, we're all set."

"Fantastic, Ariadene, you'll be our watcher."

At Eames' words Ariadene's eye popped slightly.

"Excuse me? When we discussed this-" She began, obviously offended.  
"When we discussed this…" Eames interrupted. "…we needed someone who knew the layout of the dreams. We are all blind here, and Arthur is a more experienced dream warrior."

"Dream Warrior?" She asked impatiently.

"Yeah." Eames spat.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't aware we were in a Wes Craven movie."  
Arthur smirked away from Eames. His distaste for him had been growing since the departure of Cobb. The emulsifier of a main goal was gone. Now it was only greed that drove them. Arthur wasn't even that greedy, he just didn't want to work his old job. He'd been in banking.

Ariadene let Arthur perform his own puncture, then proceeded to stab Eames' needle into his arm hastily. Eames scowled at her.

"Count backwards from twenty." She ordered them monotonously.

_20  
_  
To be honest, this was more than a little frightening.

_19  
_They could wind up in the Jurassic period, Cora could be some sort of mad monster woman.\

_18  
_or maybe…

_17  
_Everything would be fine.

_16_

Yeah…

_15  
Fine…_

**This is short, but it's been several months. I should finish this.  
End is in sight.  
**


	9. Chapter 9

The ground was hard and movable. The air, chilled and damp. Arthur opened his eyes to find himself on a rock beach, with Eames nowhere in sight.  
"Hello, _gorgeous_."  
Arthur whipped around to see two leather wing-back armchairs waiting next to each other. One of them contained a thin woman, all bone and black lace, smoking a long pipe. Her hair was swimming around her face like she was submerged. He saw that she was strapped into the chair with a seat belt. She exhaled a trail of smoke that took the shape of a pentacle and began to roll towards him, finally bursting in his face.  
"Who exactly are you…and why are you in my psyche?"  
_Shit._ Arthur thought to himself. Any minute now there would be projections crawling everywhere.  
"What the hell do you keep looking for, there's no one here but us and your friend. Though, truth be told, he's rather preoccupied." She spat.

Arthur struggled to figure out what she was talking about.  
"What do you mean preoccupied?"  
She scoffed.  
"Nevermind it. Just answer my questions."

Arthur swallowed.  
"My name is Mr. Charles-"  
"No it isn't." Cora interrupted, lighting another batch of tobacco.  
"Wait, what?" Confusion crossed all over Arthur's face.  
Cora began to look impatient.  
"Why-are-you-in-my-head?" She drawled slowly.  
Arthur's head was pounding profusely, he really didn't want to be doing this.  
"I'm here to take something from you…but I can't remember what…"  
Cora giggled into her pipe.  
"Come here, have a seat." She offered, patting the chair next to her.  
Arthur practically lunged for it.  
"Why can't I think straight?" He breathed out. It felt like someone had taken horseshoe nails and driven them into his ears.  
"My parents are wealthy, I'm an outspoken liberal musician. Do the math. " She puffed on her pipe some more.  
Arthur's expression remained blankly inquisitive.  
"They're scared of terrorists raping their baby's mind." Cora cocked her head to look at him.  
"You aren't a terrorist, are you?"  
Arthur blinked and attempted to swipe at his eyes.  
"No…just an idiot." He breathed out haggardly. Whatever was in the air here had him doubled over on the inside. An old memory from college came bounding forward, barking for attention. This felt like coming down from MDMA.  
"No, you aren't. You're just…misplaced." The skeletal feminine form said to him curtly.  
"You're here because I have a jealous half-wit of a brother who likes to pretend I'm his evil step sister. He goes out of his way to fuck with me and…Audible sigh, it's insane. He's a nut!"  
Arthur's head felt a tad clearer and more…aware .  
"Wait…did you just _say_ audible sigh?" He asked.  
Cora nodded and sighed. "Your friend is in the chapel…go to him, and get out of here. Once I've collected from my latest work…I'll pay you double what my brother's paying."  
Arthur stared at her and contemplated the pay off. "Where's this chapel…?"  
"Behind the mountain of ash, behind you." She breathed out with smoke.  
Arthur was able to twist his neck around to see a path of dirt appear in the rocks.  
"Are you coming too?" He asked. He could hear the slight desperation in his tone.  
Cora exhaled harshly. Arthur half expected her to choke.  
"You know…I suppose I'll have to eventually…and it's a fine day for it." She replied, unbuckling her seatbelt and standing. Her hair suddenly went lax against her scalp.  
Arthur cracked his neck.  
"Why don't y-"He began.  
"Why don't you stop asking questions?" She said sharply.  
They began walking on the path. It lead them from the beach to an apparently snow-ridden landscape.  
"Before you ask, mister questioning Quentin, this is the ash field. It's where I keep my charred memories." She spat at him.  
"Where's the mountain then?" Arthur challenged. He was sick of her being sick of him.  
Cora growled and smiled.  
"Why don't you take three steps to the left? Like a good little mind fucker?"  
Arthur scoffed at her and threw her ball of venom back to her.  
"Why don't you stop swearing?" He sneered.  
She turned to him, with wide, rage-ridden eyes and suddenly spouted:  
"Why don't you take a nap so I can suffocate you?"  
Arthur scowled. Cora huffed and gave another frustrated groan and glared at him.  
"Would you just take the steps?" She begged.  
"Would you care to say please?" He said to her, staring her down and smiling.  
She palmed her face.  
"Oh, mysterious and _handsome_ intruder into my most intimate organ, please oh PLEASE take 3 steps to the left." She cried out, her voice was laced with enough sarcasm to take down a bull elephant.  
Arthur thanked her, and did as he was asked.  
"!"  
He fell.  
Cora jumped in after the screaming Arthur.  
"YOU ARE SO LOUD! QUIT SCREAMING!" She shouted to him when she managed to find him.  
"YOU ARE INSANE LADY! WHAT THE HELL IS THIS!" He shouted back.  
"DO YOU WANT TO STOP?" She asked.  
"HOW?" He screamed.  
Cora smiled.  
"FIVEFOURTHREETWOONESTOP!" She yelled as loud as she could.  
They were in a dark forest of charred trees, each of which was blooming with red roses.  
"What the hell was that?" Arthur pleaded, his knees buckled and his heart racing.  
" The mountain, we went under it. That's how you're supposed to do it." She said coldly.  
"And we are where?" He pursued.  
"Candy forest." She ended his pursuit.  
Cora had made this place when she was nine, as a place of simple escape. The bark of the trees was black licorice, the sap was caramel. The roses were crafted from cherry freeze pops. Everything here was…old, though. Cora hadn't had to retreat this deep in a while. She found herself a little frightened at the idea of these people in her head. She didn't have to ask to know it was her brother's doing, but still, that was a disappointing fact. She exhaled deeply. She could see the neon and bright lights of the chapel from here…she didn't want this, that was her prized endeavor, she can't just expel…  
But, she had to…otherwise, she'd never get anything done.  
Cora hadn't noticed she'd stopped walking.  
"Cora?"  
She snapped out of her thoughts.  
Arthur looked mildly concerned.  
"Everything okay?"  
She nodded, and pressed on.  
The chapel was the most flamboyantly illuminated thing that Arthur had ever seen. Every wall was covered in white light bulbs. The stripes of neon lit up the grey sky that engulfed everything around them wove in and out to form a sign that read  
_"THE VEGAS JEWEL WEDDING CHAPEL"  
_Arthur heard Cora swallow and sigh. Her face was twisted into a deep scowl.  
"Cora…" he started softly.  
"What is in there?"  
Cora's eyes were laced with the threat of a sob.  
She didn't look back at Arthur, but she kept focusing on the doors, a set of monstrous gold plated demons.  
"_They_ …are in there…" She almost whispered, like it was some strange ritual.  
"Your man…and mine." She turned her head to him as she stated it. Her eyes had dried on their own. She coughed and began to head for the door.  
"Let's get this over with, Questio-"  
"Arthur." He interrupted her.  
"My name is Arthur."  
Cora gave him a cold stare.  
"Why would you tell me that?" She asked him as she opened the doors to the chapel.  
Arthur shrugged as he began to walk up to the entrance.  
"It's got a better ring than Questioning Quentin." 


	10. Chapter 10

There is a sensation when one is home alone playing a video game. When the whole house is silent, and in that moment it's just you, the game, and that awful hallway in the game that has the music to set the mood that something important is about to happen.  
Arthur had this feeling now.  
The chapel opened into a lobby that was covered in cobwebs and nearly derelict. Plush red velvet clung to the walls , fraying at the sconces where candles were on their last leg. A case of moth-hole ridden wedding gowns lay shattered on the floor. Cora was shaking.  
An organ's screech slammed through the air. She jumped a foot backwards.  
The Bridal March.  
Her knees quaked.  
Arthur stopped and grasped her arm lightly.  
"You don't have to do this, I'll just go get Eames and we'll leave."  
Cora just shook her head.  
Arthur studied her face for a moment. Worry and fear were etched into small lines everywhere, exemplary sorrow was settled into her brow.  
It was in this moment, Cora studied him back. In a second and a half, she decided she liked his suit.  
Their gaze met.  
"Are you ready?" He asked quietly.  
Cora nodded and responded with a simple "Yes."  
He released her arm, and she grasped his.  
Her brain was ricocheting with thoughts of fainting. She was going to pass out.  
The pair reached the door to the main room. The organ was getting to an unbearable volume. Arthur moved to grip the knob, but Cora grabbed it before he could, threw the doors open, and…  
There he was.  
Tall, tan, seething with sex, love, and understanding.  
His hair was combed back instead of wrapped in it's bandana, he was wearing a fitted black suit, lighting a cigarette. He hadn't even noticed them come in.  
A bouquet of rotted flowers decorated the stairs he stood on, her discarded bouquet.  
This room was a tomb of a mistake.  
The man clicked his lighter shut and looked up at Cora. He smiled.  
"There's my girl." He said dreamily.  
Cora released Arthur's arm.  
"I'm here with a purpose. I'm looking for his friend." She said motioning to Arthur.  
Arthur was glaring at him.  
The man cocked his head and plastered a faux-confused look on his face.  
"Not even a hello?" He asked, stepping towards her.  
"Trevor, please-"  
He cut her off by cupping the side of her face.  
"Not even an I-missed-you-so-much?" He leaned in to try to rob her of a kiss. Cora spat in his eye. Trevor raised an eyebrow and whipped a handkerchief out of his pocket. He wiped her saliva off his face and gave her a hard glare.  
"You think you can just walk in here like this? With this…new interest in tow, like some guard dog?" Trevor fixed his eyes on Arthur.  
"Tell me, do you bark when she says speak?"  
Arthur punched him in the nose. Trevor stumbled backwards and covered his nose with his hand. He growled and started to chuckle. Arthur looked back to Cora who looked like she was about to break apart.  
"That's your tough guy punch? Core, you better be glad I love you so god damn much otherwise this clown would be on the fl-" Trevor had to stop as Arthur flung himself onto him. He grabbed Trevor's hair and began to punch him in the face over and over.  
"STOP IT!" Cora screamed, but Arthur did not. He'd dealt with assholes like this with women he'd known, and this one wasn't even real. He was an irreverent jerk.  
"GAH! COR- ARTHUR, FUCKING STOP!"  
Arthur snapped out of his rage. British accent.  
"Eames?" He asked , confused.  
"WHO THE BLOODY HELL DID YOU THINK IT WAS? DICK VAN DYKE? Get off of me you felled git-monger!" Eames screamed from beneath him.  
Arthur dismounted his former-prey and helped him up.  
Eames stalked up to Cora and shoved a finger in her face.  
"YOU!...You are turning out to be MORE trouble than you're worth!" He nearly screeched at her.  
Cora slapped him.  
Eames looked astonished.  
"What was that f-" She slapped him again before he could finish. He shoved him when he looked back at her, then began trying to hit him wherever she could. Arthur restrained her and she finally broke.  
"You stupid bitch!" She screamed at Eames.  
"Do you have any idea what you do to people when you do that!"  
Eames picked up the cigarette Arthur had knocked out of his mouth.  
"Oh do shut up darling, You'll forget about it by tomorrow." He said with ease.  
"No." Cora said stonily, wrenching her body out of Arthur's hands.  
"No, I will remember this."  
Eames gave her a disregarding glance, but stopped dead as his attention was drawn to a silhouette behind her.  
The organ ground itself to a halt. Note by note a melody echoed through the room, through a flute.  
"What in hell's fire…"  
The music stopped. The silhouette tucked his flute into his jacket. It began to walk towards them.  
The scent of leather and blood reached the three of them.  
This was not the man in the photograph that Eames had copied, though he was close. This was a creature composed of gaunt features, a grey tint to the flesh, black eyes and shark teeth. His hair was wrapped in a black bandana. His shirt half open and aged from white to a tea color. Cora closed her eyes and started to whisper something inaudible.  
The creature walked to her and breathed into her ear. She winced.  
"It's nice to finally see you again, Kiddo." He placed a small kiss where her jaw met her skull. Cora crumpled. Her knees gave way and she fell to the floor frantically saying no.  
Eames stared at Trevor, who plucked the cigarette from his lips and took a long drag. He coughed and spat it out.  
"Camel trash…" He takes an unfiltered cigarette out of his interior pocket.  
"S'why I roll my own." He snaps his fingers. Suddenly it's lit.  
"Now listen buddy…I have a bone to pick with you…" He says, putting a hand on Eames' shoulder. "That impersonation you did of me…it really shook up my girl here. And if there's one thing I don't appreciate…" Trevor paused to wrap his hands around Eames' neck. Eames cast his gaze to Arthur, but looked back knowingly.  
"It's you doing that to her. She's better than that." A silence fell on the foursome. An itch raced through Arthur. Something was clinging to the air in here…  
Trevor brought Eames nose to nose with him.  
"I'm not sorry for this." He hissed. Trevor snapped Eames' neck.

Eames bolted up straight. Applause was swarming his surroundings. He heard the sound of a gun being cocked to his left. He nearly popped a nerve straining to see that Ariadene was being held with a gun to her head. On the other end of the pistol was Swing-Cora, backed by Scary-Cora and Hippie-Cora.  
"Hello, Eames." She almost sang to him.  
Eames gave her a flirtatious smile and a small wave.

Cora had stopped crying, but hadn't stopped shaking. Arthur had not been worried about dying in her dream. He knew where he'd end up, he was safe. She, however, was not. Arthur wasn't quite sure how this was going to play out, but he wanted to be there in case something took a turn for the worse.  
Trevor leaned down to her.  
"You're okay? Obviously you aren't but are you okay?" He grabbed her hands as he spoke to her.  
"I haven't seen you in two years. How the fuck would I be okay?" She was dry sobbing now.  
"Well…that's your fault you locked me away in here-" Trevor almost said.  
"YOU LEFT ME AT THE ALTER!" She shrieked at him.  
"YOU TOLD ME YOU LOVED ME AND TOOK ME TO VEGAS FOR A MARRIAGE! YOU LEFT ME AT THE ALTER FOR YOUR STUPID BITCH OF AN EX." She'd grabbed his collar and started shaking his neck by now.  
"That girl is poison…and…you just kept going back."  
He grinned with all his teeth, their sharp angles gleaming in the dim light.  
"Do you find me …sadistic?" He giggled.  
Cora punched him in the chest. He grabbed her wrist and hauled her to her feet, slamming her into a wall.  
Arthur grabbed Trevor by his shoulders and hauled him back. Trevor released Cora and whipped around to strike Arthur. He was met with a punch to the jaw. Trevor recoiled from it, but tackled Arthur to the ground. Trevor held his opponent down by his face and growled.  
Cora watched in stunned silence. Arthur caught her eye.  
"CORA DON'T YOU DARE LET HIM-" Arthur was forced to stop as Trevor began to press on his throat.  
Cora felt something swell in her chest. Something warm and enticing. Realization.  
"I am you." She said.  
Trevor looked back at her, narrowing his eyes.  
"You idiotic bastard, I AM YOU." She accused pointing at him like it would actually do something.  
It did.  
Trevor flew off of Arthur and hit the wall across from him, knocking over several pews.  
"I keep going back to you…No matter what I do." He voice was rickety as she began to creep towards him, but her stance had grown strong and angry.  
"I think about you every day, wonder what you do. I keep the memory of you locked away so I don't have to dwell too much. You were nothing but a monster! You never loved me! You've always loved her, I was just a hollowed out plaything for you to string along!"  
"THAT ISN'T TRUE!.." He howled in her face.  
"I DID LOVE YOU! I LOVED YOU SO MUCH I WANTED TO DIE! BUT I COULD NEVER HAVE YOU!"  
"Liar. You had me, you cast me out." She muttered.  
"I never meant to hurt you! I…I left you the sword!" His tone faltered.  
"…Arthur?..." Cora didn't brake her gaze on him as she called her friend's name.  
Arthur had been poised to help her since she'd thrown Trevor across the room.  
"Y-yeah?" He stuttered.  
"Do me a quick favor and check the groom's changing room...I need what's in there."  
Arthur gave her a quick nod and scurried to the back.  
Trevor leaned his head down and smirked at Cora, who flicked her fingers at him and forced his head back against into wall.  
"You know I'll never be gone…You'll always love me, no matter what you do." His voice oozed from between his teeth. Cora felt her stomach churn.  
Arthur was back in an instant, sword in tow.  
"You know…Trevor, that could be true. I may love you forever, I may not. I may get over it…"  
here she crossed her fingers and clicked her tongue.  
"…Fingers crossed, here's hoping!...but there's one thing you've been forgetting…This is _my_ mind…" Cora unwound her fingers and made the "beckoning" motion over her shoulder. Her gifted faux-Hattori Hanzo sword slid out of its scabbard and positioned itself to strike. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the engraving he had done prior to his flight.  
_For my wife, the only girl I'll ever love.  
_The familiar sensation of her blood turning to acid swam back to her and she clenched her fist. She could hear his voice inside her thoughts, everything he ever said, everything sweet, sexy, loving…  
His proposal over the phone.  
His new girlfriend calling her a dumb slut.  
A _little girl._  
Dial tone.  
Arthur could see her mouth out the words on Trevor's note like a prayer.  
Cora relaxed her fist.  
The sword tore through him like a Christmas turkey. Trevor screamed as what appeared to be gold sand poured out of his wounds.  
Arthur leaned over Cora's shoulder.  
"What is that stuff?" he inquired.  
He heard her give a dark giggle.  
"It's power." She said tilting her head to look at him.  
Arthur smiled at her.  
She smiled back.  
"You…wanna get out of here?" He asked.  
Cora nodded.  
They walked out of the chapel to find that all the lights had been turned off. It was a relic of another time, ready to be forgotten.  
"Can you, uh…make a cliff or something?" Arthur said, looking into the candy forest. It had gotten a lot more colorful.  
"Sure thing, super suit." She shot at him.  
He gave her a look.  
She snapped her fingers and half the scenery fell away.  
Cora leaned to look over the side.  
Arthur pushed her, then jumped after her.


End file.
